


Consulting Your Silent Partner

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phoenix Wright's jerk off session, the things that run through his head as he tries to get off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consulting Your Silent Partner

**Title** : Consulting Your Silent Partner  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Prompt** : I want Phoenix Wright's jerk off session, the things that run through his head as he tries to get off. Any kinks your heart desires, go absolutely wild! Only request is that you include fantasies about multiple partners, at least Edgeworth, Mia and Apollo go through his mind! And please don't include Trucy! :(

I want it to be mostly about the unattainable fantasies, though. If you want to include UST or pining for a specific partner, that's fine, but the main point of the fic should be the nastiest, most unrealistic fantasies Phoenix has.

Phoenix/Mia, consensual cock worship/tit fuck  
Phoenix/Kristoph (briefly), Phoenix/Klavier, rape  
Phoenix/Miles humiliation/rape, Miles/Phoenix humiliation/rape  
Phoenix/Apollo, cock worship, blow job

  
He felt like a pervert at first, which is hilarious given the depths his fantasies have fallen now.

There was just something so taboo about picturing someone _in particular_ when he gripped himself, a real someone, someone he wasn't in a sexual relationship and never would be. He'd been jerking off for years at that point, of course, but it was always to vague images, sensations. Fantasy women and men, sloping curves and wet lips and perfect hands, pecs, thighs. He had one dirty magazine that he kept hidden under his mattress as a kid, and he would skim the images, settling on aspects that he liked and focusing hard as he fisted his hand around his cock in frantic, hot movements, as if they could be brought to life if he came hard enough.

It's not like he had a rule about it or anything, it just never really occurred to him to yank it to someone he knew, he had no desire to.

Until he met Mia Fey.

She just – had this _smell_. This delicious, _warm_ smell of something made to melt in your mouth, tingling with how sweet, how rich, how _ready_ to be taken it is.

Phoenix swallows thickly as he thinks about it, her smell, wrapping a hand around himself, just beginning to stiffen. He's big – big enough to make his first girlfriend complain if he wasn't careful enough, and in his fantasy, Mia is so impressed.

"Goodness Phoenix," she teases, running one thin finger up his cock. "What do you plan to do with this?"

She's so gorgeous, she's _luscious_ , hips and breasts are so _ripe_ , and she smiles, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket playfully.

In the fantasy, she knows what he wants, and doesn't waste time teasing him – at this point he's still too naive to imagine the pleasure that can result from anything that can stand between identifying pleasure and obtaining it.

He imagines the skin of her breasts, creamy, flawless, smooth, and _slick_ , they're glistening as she works his cock between them, pressing them firm together. She moans when he reaches out, too tempted by this display to just watch. He paws at her breasts a little clumsily, but in the fantasy it's perfect, exactly what she was waiting for, the combination to unlock her sweetest moans, gasping, shuddering orgasm, as Phoenix comes soon after, spraying her with his come.

He feels so guilty as he cleans up afterward, with what he allowed himself to imagine. Of course he had no idea then how bad it would get. How bad his _life_ would get, not just four years down the road.

*

Freshly disbarred, and Phoenix was angry, then, at everything. He would work his cock like he was mad at it, his grip unrelenting, punishing, as his sexual fantasies began to take a darker, almost vengeful tone. He would try to imagine Kristoph, there was no one else he wanted to face his wrath, but this was rarely satisfying. Out of frustration, head tipped back and eyes shut tight, he'd try to make the fantasies rougher: not just bending the man over his desk, but yanking his head back cruelly, getting a good look at his his tear filled eyes – but that wasn't right, he wouldn't cry, would he? No, he'd be blank, eerily so, cracked down the center, or maybe the monster would actually be _laughing_ , seeing it as a victory and – Phoenix would nearly give up on those nights, still hard, but unable to relax enough to imagine anything resembling sanity. His body an alien, angry thing that rolled with hunger Phoenix couldn't begin to fill.

Maybe the younger brother, Klavier. Phoenix knew, knows, Klavier was oblivious and essentially harmless but he's fanning this rage in his chest and it doesn't take much for the spark to jump from one subject to another.

Klavier would cry, he's fairly sure, and he's smaller than his brother, smaller than Phoenix by just enough, enough to pin him down. His hair is short, which makes grabbing at it, yanking his head back by it, a little more painful. Klavier swears at first, angry snarls of German as he tries to fight back, bucking against Phoenix – but he's so fucking young, so fucking cocky, the idea of failing is beyond him, he's so unprepared for it. He breaks easily once he realizes he's not getting away, crying almost immediately when he feels the size of Phoenix pressed against him. Phoenix's cock feels like a weapon, powerful in its hardness, its weight between his legs.

Klavier must sense this, and he begs, in German at first, then desperate apologies in English – _Sorry, so sorry, please – please, no –_ but Phoenix forces his way in, listening to Klavier cry out, squirm in vain as Phoenix impales him properly. "Aaah," Klavier sobs out mindlessly, contorting his body to better take the intrusion, lifting his hips and spreading his legs not out of eagerness but an attempt to ease the pain.

He rests then, letting Klavier feel the full weight of his body leaning over him, panting against the back of his neck, feeling the boy shake at the feel of it.

Phoenix finds a brutal pace and snaps his hips to it, slamming in and _in_ that tight hole, one that's still fighting against letting him in, clenching futilely even while Phoenix forces his way, and when Klavier finally relaxes, slipping against the desk in broken sobs, he slips back to German, no longer expecting to be heard, to be acknowledged. In Phoenix's fantasy he can understand his sobbed, futile _no_ s and _please_ , _I was wrong, I'm so sorry_.

Klavier's fight is renewed when he realizes Phoenix is about to come in him, dump his load, spoiled little thing unable to stand such indignity. He scrabbles for purchase against the desk, trying to yank himself free, maybe over the edge? Phoenix laughs darkly, breathless, moments away from climax, gripping Klavier's hips hard and lifting him from the ground in a wild surge of strength as he comes, a final brutal pounding that leaves Klavier in true, broken, gasping sobs.

Phoenix isn't a cruel man, though, and this can only be satisfying for so long. Of course the line between fantasy and reality is firm and about a mile wide, but he begins to feel somewhat guilty, there's something too real about his frustrations.

*

But he has no reason to feel guilt when he pictures Edgeworth's face.

"Come on, come _on_ , Miles," Phoenix taunts into his mouth, rocking Edgeworth backward, into the wall, so similar to their one-off romantic encounter, a fumbling, demanding thing that was way more satisfying than it had any right to be. But maybe that was only on Phoenix's end, considering how scarce Edgeworth made himself afterward.

Phoenix is angry with Edgeworth, but it's not working, not like it did with Klavier. When he shoves his fingers into Edgeworth roughly, making Edgeworth pant, release some pained feral noise, he can come, but he's forcing it. He gets crueler, fucking him with objects instead, using toys first, then humiliating things: vegetables, wooden legs of a chair, his fist, anything that could fit. Edgeworth comes hard for this treatment, submitting to Phoenix's prompting and admitting that he's a whore, just a whore, that he'll take anything Phoenix gives him. He also hates it some nights, truly hates it, only taking it because Phoenix is _forcing_ it on him, but neither of these work.

He's not sure when he firsts imagines Edgeworth breaking free of his hold, but – honestly, that first time, that's all it took. Phoenix came, _hard_ , just from the thought of Edgeworth's angry snarl, overpowering Phoenix, tossing him back.

It escalated quickly from there. The Edgeworth in his mind binds him in humiliating poses. He forces him to take all that Phoenix imagined feeding Edgeworth's hungry asshole and more, smacking his ass, forcing him to come even as Phoenix's hissing how much he hates him, hates him, _hates him, how could you leave me?_

But Edgeworth didn't leave him in his fantasy, he's teaching him a lesson, and the best nights, the nights he comes the hardest, are when Edgeworth is strict but kind, tying Phoenix's hands together rather than to the headboard. Cradling him from behind, controlling their fucking completely, but it's more or less tender, a perverse kind of rocking him to sleep.

Edgeworth never talks in Phoenix's mind, never makes demands. He's silent, forcing Phoenix to bend to his will, making him come as he does it, maybe beg for more. Maybe it's because he's so afraid of what he'd say if he was there.

*

Apollo made his initial debut in Phoenix's nightly depravity a year ago, after that Christmas party. They'd found themselves under the mistletoe together, and Phoenix had laughed when he noticed, thoughtlessly doing as he'd done with Trucy every Christmas before: giving the boy a quick, paternal peck on the cheek.

He'd anticipated the blush, but Apollo must've been more sloshed than Phoenix guessed. He stared at Phoenix, eyes round, eyebrows arched and mouth slightly parted in open surprise, open wonder, admiration, _reverence_ , even, a way he hadn't looked at Phoenix since that first day of trial, before he'd had his preconceived notions of Phoenix Wright: Hero Attorney dashed by Hobo: Lying A Lot.

Phoenix realized that it wasn't quite as dead as Apollo would have him believe, his childhood worship.

The moment was over in an instant, Apollo blinking his gaze clear and hurrying to escape back to the festivities, and that night, Christmas lights blinking in Phoenix's window, he thought about Apollo's _Mr. Wright!_. his blushes, his stutters, and came.

It's elaborate, now, the fantasy he's worked up. Splaying his legs on the couch, Apollo knelt between them. He quakes at the size of Phoenix's cock, using both hands to roll the condom into place, face already flushed, sneaking glances up at Phoenix as if to ask if he's doing this right, handling Phoenix's thick cock the way he likes. He's impressed, so impressed, like Mia was, only he squirms as he looks at Phoenix's dick, sticking straight up between his legs, proud and long, and it's the biggest one he's ever seen.

It's not a weapon, it hasn't been a weapon in his fantasies for a while now – and he's no longer angry, no longer hurting. Mellowed with time, the palms of his hands no longer soft, no longer calloused, but rough like well-worn leather. He cradles Apollo's head almost tenderly, smiling to himself when Apollo whimpers, when it's too much for him. Phoenix guides him through it, watching Apollo's head bob obediently. His mouth is too small to take it all, which was a disappointing realization as Phoenix watched him one night over the dinner table, struggling to shove an entire sausage in his mouth. Until it became incredibly hot, an integral part of this fantasy, Apollo trying, straining, opening that dainty mouth as much as he can to get Phoenix in there.

Sometimes Apollo swallows it all, greedily. Sometimes it's too much and it leaks out his mouth, and Phoenix gathers it with his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to feed it to him. Usually, though, Phoenix sprays his seed all over his face, his hair, and can't bring himself to feel guilty at all.

  



End file.
